The Twenty-Four Dollar Island (1927)

Director: Robert J. Flaherty

By Marilyn Ferdinand

Robert Flaherty’s 1922 film Nanook of the North is credited with being the first full-length, ethnographic documentary in cinematic history. As we understand the term “documentary” today, this film certainly stands as the most famous of its time, that is, a documentary that is not merely a document impassively recording occurrences in front of the lens, as with the “actualities” from the dawn of filmmaking, but one that preserves cultural artifacts with either implicit or explicit points of view about those artifacts. Flaherty would be one of the first documentarians to fiddle with the truth to preserve things he found valuable. In Nanook and Man of Aran (1934), for example, his aim was to document ways of life that were becoming extinct. Flaherty banished any modern tools or methods used by the Inuit tribe he recorded in favor of filming their traditional way of life; in Aran, the fishermen of Ireland’s Aran Islands literally reenacted traditional practices they had already abandoned.

You might call Flaherty something of a Luddite, despite his use of photographic equipment in filming and editing his material, and someone who may have romanticized traditional societies even as he saw the evidence of their hardships with his own eyes. His bias toward simplicity comes roaring out of The Twenty-Four Dollar Island, a 13-minute documentary in which the city of New York itself is the main character. The film is included in Anthology Film Archive’s nine-hour DVD set, Unseen Cinema: Early American Avant-Garde Film 1894-1941, a brilliant attempt to make it and other vital and fascinating films unseen no longer.

The Twenty-Four Dollar Island is another startlingly original work, portraying the mechanical organism that is a robust industrial city through its architecture and machines. While I don’t know what the original score for the film sounded like—or even if it had one—the new score by Donald Sosin provides a strong complement to Flaherty’s point of view that a city is something close to a fascistic overlord that, nonetheless, reflects human civilizations through the centuries.

The film opens with an image on paper: an historic drawing of the 1626 trade Dutchman Peter Minuit supposedly made with Native Americans—boxes of trinkets worth $24 for Manhattan Island. Title cards tell us the Dutch immediately built 30 houses. Next, we learn the new city of New Amsterdam grew to 1,000 residents by 1656. The film then juxtaposes a drawn map of the original New Amsterdam settlement with photos of the metropolis that had spread out on the same site by 1926, the year this film was shot. The next title card introduces Flaherty’s subject proper: “New York, symbol of impressive industry, finance, power, where men are dwarfed by the immensity of that which they have conceived—machines, skyscrapers—mountains of steel and stone.”

A couple of men are glimpsed on the edges of the frame as they maneuver some earth-moving equipment into place. Steel clam shovels dig into the sand and move on threads of chain into the air to deposit their loads in a nearby container. The music, which until now had trafficked in Native American motifs, starts to take on a stronger rhythmic intensity, as though it were imitating the heartbeat of the city, and synthesized tones emphasize the mechanistic nature of the subject. Ships belching black smoke and dwarfing nearby ferries and tugboats fill the frame. The Hudson River, visible on the maps shown at the beginning of the film, seems to be brimming with seafaring traffic, like a bathtub awash in rubber duckies and toy boats. Bridges spanning from the island to the surrounding land cut a swath through the sky; when the river traffic and bridges enter the same frame, the sky is all but obliterated. The total encroachment of the urban human habitat on the natural landscape of the island will fill the frame at the end of the film.

New York seems like some ghastly nightmare to Flaherty. Men building the mighty structures of the city work in deep holes, chipping at bedrock with pick axes and sliding down loose earth and rubble. The rock is loaded into a container and lifted by a crane out of the hole. During the scene, my mind raced to the building of the pyramids, which employed devices and many men working with their hands to erect the pharoahs’ tombs. As if by magic, the next image is of a building whose upper half is shaped like a stepped pyramid.

When the film segues to some of the skyscrapers then standing in Manhattan, a tree limb or two break into the frame. Not all of New York is hard and pushy, the film seems to want to say. The music softens with strains reminiscent of Aaron Copland’s “Appalachian Spring” but trending in the direction of his more atonal Third Symphony, and the examples of grace and elegance then in existence are boxy or overly fussy, reflecting a basic bad taste. If only the Chrysler Building had been finished in time to be photographed for this film, this section might have made a better case for New York’s softer side.

Flaherty captures the muscularity of New York, its ugliness, and deliberately eliminates most humans from the frame. It’s hard to believe the title card that says there were 8 million people living in the city in 1926, so completely does the island seem entirely populated by buildings and machines. There is nothing left from 1626 for Flaherty to recreate ethnographically, and without the elemental roots of the city—only its bedrock bones being hacked to pieces by drone workers—Flaherty seems to find little to dignify in his portrait. His point of view is clear; The Twenty-Four Dollar Island is a mesmerizing and amazing achievement for him and for its new scorer, Donald Sosin, who captures the spirit of the film and enhances it significantly.

  • Sam Juliano spoke:
    7th/04/2011 to 4:35 pm

    “His bias toward simplicity comes roaring out of The Twenty-Four Dollar Island, a 13-minute documentary in which the city of New York itself is the main character. The film is included in Anthology Film Archive’s nine-hour DVD set, Unseen Cinema: Early American Avant-Garde Film 1894-1941, a brilliant attempt to make it and other vital and fascinating films unseen no longer…”

    Marilyn: Last year we were honored to have Donald Sosin comment under a review of a silent film (at our site) that the composer had scored. I am very excited to hear his work is again on display in THE TWENTY-FOUR DOLLAR ISLAND. I’m sorry to say I have never seen this film, though I have managed a number of other Flahertys and regard him as one of the greatest of all documentarians. I also do not own this set and am investigating it now. In any case you have written up a masterfully detailed review of a film that leaves the people out of the frame in favor of the technological evolution of the world’s centerpiece of culture. Living just minutes from Manhattan (heck I’m heading over there tonight in fact to see an off-Broadway staging of THE BAD SEED) I’m fascinated with this film lock, stock and barrel.

    What a thrilling revelation here!

  • Marilyn spoke:
    7th/04/2011 to 8:10 pm

    Sam – I hope you enjoy that wonderful play, and as always, anything I can add to your knowledge and enjoyment of our mutual passion is my pleasure. I think you will find the score for this to be masterful. The film is helped enormously by it, and I’m sure that having Sosin comment on your blog was a major highlight of your enterprise, as it would be for mine. I hope Lucille forgives me for sending you off to buy another box set, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it as well.

  • James Russell spoke:
    7th/04/2011 to 11:43 pm

    “barring the discovery of earlier films like it, that is”

    Frank Hurley’s “South” may not be an ethnographic film like Nanook, but it was a feature-length documentary released in 1919 long before Flaherty finished his film (and Hurley’s been accused of staging some of his action long before Flaherty too).

    The Unseen Cinema box is kind of awe-inspiring, but I don’t think I’ve watched more than half of it in three or four years that I’ve owned it. I just watched this film again, and agree with you about the Sosin score, it sets so much of the mood. Do you know if the intertitles have been restored? Cos I seem to recall it having Russian title cards when I saw it at the Sydney Film Festival nine years ago.

  • Marilyn spoke:
    8th/04/2011 to 7:38 am

    James – Thanks for that information. My knowledge of this era is spotty, and I’ve made a correction in the above copy. And yes, I do think the intertitles have been restored, but I think Anthology would be the place to verify that. And let’s face it, 9 hours of short films is a lot of films to watch. I saw this on TCM along with other selections from the set, though I’m tempted to buy the set. I really like short and experimental films.

  • James Russell spoke:
    8th/04/2011 to 10:17 pm

    Same here. I’m fascinated by experimental cinema of that era, which is why I made an effort to go to the Sydney Film Festival (which I don’t normally do) when they were showing some parts of the Unseen Cinema program, including stuff not on the DVD (I’ve always been disappointed that the DVD box doesn’t include everything in the Unseen Cinema program). But finding the inclination to watch the DVD is difficult. Lot easier to reach for something less demanding.

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